


Overtime

by Anonyma



Category: Hotline Miami (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, anyway, basically its filler, didnt tag it m/m because there isn't anything that really requires the tag but YALL KNOW, nothing exciting just some Gentle Bonding, some bodyguard stuff, wanted to kinda strengthen their relationship without disrupting too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-29 02:46:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12072990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonyma/pseuds/Anonyma
Summary: I don't know when Bodyguard will next be updated, and I felt like writing as the Son, so I just sat down and wrote this silly short thing. Who knows, maybe it'll add some depth... It was good practice for me, anyway.Part of the Bodyguard continuity, of course.





	Overtime

The moon was barely up and already everything felt too quiet, too still. Half his men had gone home, the other half lingered about playing cards. A cigarette dangled loosely from Sasha’s lips, the paper burning up without him having taken more than two drags. He didn’t care for the taste or the way the smell clung to his clothes, but it gave him something to do when he was otherwise standing still. Looking out at the street below, sporting hardly any traffic and without a soul in sight, he got the feeling that it was more than just him that was motionless.

Maybe he had to be higher up to truly appreciate the city, but right now Miami looked ugly. Dull. Stifling. If this was to be his empire, he was going to have to find some way to fall in love with it... Judging by what had happened nearly a year before, that was going to take some time. Possibly a therapist.

_Nah, therapists are for pussies. Real men solve their problems with hookers and booze._

That had to be about his most pathetic thought to date.

He blamed the size of his headquarters for the way he felt tonight. What kind of mafia ran successfully from a three-floor building? It was fucking ridiculous. If it hadn’t been for the fact he couldn’t set foot in his father’s villa without wanting to vomit, he would have started there. This place just wasn’t big enough. It didn’t reflect the grandeur of the organization...

Snorting, he took the cigarette and prepared to throw it as far as it would go. Who the fuck was he kidding? The only thing grand about the mafia at this point was the size of his car-

“That’s kinda wasteful.”

Sasha didn’t even have to turn around to know who the sudden voice belonged to; they’d spent so much time together in the past month that he could recognize him blindfolded. More partner in crime than bodyguard, the man in pink had proven himself to be a worthy employee. Of course. Like Sasha had ever made a bad decision in his life.

“Thought you would’ve gone home,” he replied, eyes still on the street. A little hum came from behind him.

“You know, I always thought bodyguards had to be around twenty-four seven,” his companion admitted.

Sasha turned at that, leaning back against the edge of the balcony with a slight smirk on his face. He took one final drag of his cigarette before tossing it for good. “Is that what you want?”

The biker, whose name he’d recently found out to be Damon, pulled a face that very clearly spelled out ‘with you? Get real’. Nonetheless, he neglected to answer, instead presenting a question of his own. “What are you doing out here, anyway? No coke or drinks in sight... Don’t you have people to terrorize?”

Sasha couldn’t help but chuckle. Always so cheeky. “Not even my closest friends get to talk to me like that. But no, no plans or parties tonight. Just me and my bad brain.”

“ _Bad brain_ , huh,” Damon replied quietly, folding his arms, “I haven’t heard you use that one before. What’s so bad about it?”

Sasha wasn’t sure he wanted to answer that, but he figured he’d set the ball rolling as it was. Offering a heavy shrug, he looked over his shoulder back at the quiet street beneath them. He could tell that Damon half-expected him not to reply.  “Well...”

Damon waited.

“I just keep wondering if any of this shit actually has a meaning.”

 “Isn’t that super cliché?” Damon didn’t bother to disguise his amusement. Sasha wasn’t sure he liked that.

“Hey, who pays your bills?” He was facing Damon again, tilting his head in disbelief. “Show a little thoughtfulness, goddammit.”

“You can’t threaten unemployment whenever I say something you don’t like,” Damon replied far too coolly, as if he already saw right through Sasha. He hated being aware of just how transparent he was.

“Oh, I can’t? News to me. Anyway, you’re fired-“

“I know something that’ll cheer you right up.” Just like he’d done to far too many men, Damon cut through Sasha’s sentence with a hint of a smile. He didn’t move from his spot, expecting Sasha to come to him.

Sasha’s heart rate picked up momentarily, brow furrowing. Surely he didn’t mean-? They’d agreed to never talk about that, to never **dream** of it unless they were both _well_ out of their minds...

“C’mon. Tie your hair up extra tight. The roads aren’t busy tonight... We can break the sound barrier,” Damon clarified, already taking a step back inside.

Sasha released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

 

The moon chased them as they sped down the highway, the world seemingly clearing a path for them by removing every other vehicle. Sasha was amazed at how calm, how _deliberate_ Damon’s movements were, as if he were going two miles per hour as opposed to two hundred (an exaggeration, of course, but by god, it’s how it felt). He was putting all his faith in this man not to crash and kill them both, and frankly, he adored the feeling.  
He howled as they sped past a lone car, the only proof of others’ existence, and had he been any more excited, he’d have put his arms in the air. Damon had been right. Adrenaline was the best medicine.

Making their way down to the beach, Damon only slowed to a halt once they were right on the sand. The moon was reflected perfectly on his visor, but Sasha was much too fixated on the reflection it cast on the water to notice. He didn’t appreciate things like this enough. It was always bloodshed, money, drugs. Rinse, repeat. There was never any time for beauty in his life. Most of the time he found that to make perfect sense, but tonight was different. Tonight was new.  
  
Looking off to the side as he slid off the bike, he noticed a group of teenagers drinking and dancing around a bonfire. Seemed Miami wasn’t so dead after all.

“This place is at its best at night,” Damon commented as he removed his helmet, shaking his head a few times before smoothing his hair back in place. Sasha wondered why he always wore a headband, but had never brought it up. “Almost nobody around... Just you and the waves.”

“How romantic,” Sasha teased, stretching his arms towards the sky to try and pop his back. Damon swiftly told him to shut up.

They had forgotten to bring beer on their little escapade, but it didn’t bother Sasha. He felt like drinking anything would upset whatever balance his state of mind currently had. Forgetting to bring a towel to sit on, however, was a little more distressing. He hated the feeling of anything on his suit.

Damon, upon seeing how much of a fuss he was kicking up, grumbled and set down his hoodie, gesturing towards it. “There. Sit. Primadonna.”

Sasha couldn’t even contradict him.

 

They watched the waves in what was the most comfortable silence of Sasha’s life. He didn’t know if it was a quality Damon had or if he’d just severely needed a change of scenery, but whichever one it was, he was grateful for it. For once he’d managed to drag himself away from thoughts of vengeance and ambition. He wasn’t the heir to the Lebedev empire in that moment, simply Sasha. It felt foreign, but not unpleasant.

He just knew he couldn’t get too used to it.

Conversation started up again when Damon asked what had most likely been on his mind since he’d taken the job. “You never expected me to be any good at the bodyguard shit, did you?"

“Well, no,” Sasha admitted, not meeting his eye. “I asked as a joke. As an insult, really.”

“Dick.”

“But then you saved my ass, and I couldn’t help but ask again, y’know? You proved yourself. And I know you’ll say I don’t need one, that I’m perfectly competent on my own...” Sasha waved his hands about, rolling his eyes, “But having a bodyguard is a family tradition. Not only that, but you’ve been a huge help.”

“I’ve been a _glorified errand boy_ more than I’d have liked,” Damon huffed, arms crossed once more.

“C’mon,” Sasha grinned, finally turning to address his companion directly. “It’s been fun, hasn’t it? Don’t say it hasn’t. I hate being lied to.”

Damon snorted with a roll of _his_ eyes (or that’s what Sasha assumed, at least) before leaning back with a smile. “Yeah, it’s been fun.”

“So there you have it. I get to be reckless, you get to have a blast, we both come out on top! You even more so, almost, ‘cause you’re getting paid. Man, I really _am_ the best boss there ever could be...” Sasha’s expression was nothing short of smug as he, too, moved to lean back and look at the stars. “And the extra perks ain’t so bad, either.”

The connotations of his sentence did not go unnoticed, as Sasha soon found himself being pelted with sand. He put his arm up and protested, but Damon was relentless, giving him light smacks for emphasis. “You are a fuckin’ _dick_ , Lebedev!”

“Why are you so unprofessional!? Guards **! Guards!** ” Despite his discomfort, Sasha was laughing. “You’re a dead man! A dead, fired man!”

“More like you’re a dead man without _me_ , asshole!” Damon retorted with another fistful of sand, but held off on his next one as Sasha began to spit and rub at his eyes. “Oh, fuck, I...”

He never got the chance to apologize; sand was flung at him too hard to do so. Never had he appeared to be more grateful to have hair over his eye- Sasha had aimed pretty high up. It was utterly childish, but ridiculously satisfying at the same time. He felt little shame being a clown out here.

It was hard to say how much longer the fight would have gone on had it not been for the teenagers taking notice of them and inviting them to their gathering. Damon was too eager to join, but Sasha felt somewhat reluctant. He didn’t know these people and he was too far out of his element to make a good, intimidating impression...

_Fuck that! That’s quitter talk!_

Dusting off Damon’s hoodie as he collected it, he made his way over to the bonfire with the intent to enjoy the rest of his night, whether the teenagers liked him or not. Hopefully they’d respect him a little more than his goddamn bodyguard did.

-

It was three in the morning, and all Sasha knew was that there was sand in his hair, he was piss drunk, and Damon’s back was very warm. Whether or not they were on a motorcycle was irrelevant to him. He just wanted to be on a bed.

One thing stuck with him all the way from sobriety and back, however. He’d laughed, forgotten his worries, and felt genuinely free for the first time in a long time, and although he knew such feelings would be a rarity, he was glad he was able to feel them at all.

Did that make him weak?

_Who gives a shit?_

He was a prideful creature in all his states, but even then he was unable to deny the fact that it had all been thanks to Damon.  
He’d have to find some way to thank him properly. A raise or something. Maybe a nice suit. Whatever he settled on, he needed the biker to know how much better life was with him around.

Without being too obvious, of course.

**Author's Note:**

> dont flame me prepz


End file.
